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penitentiary. You ought to be. You haven't any right, you
blackguards 1"

" It's not for you to say, Doctor Potter," Mr. Munn finally
said, and motioned to the men to move on.

Doctor Potter shouted back something unintelligible as he
drove away, slowly, down Jefferson.

The other men, three of them, who had been picked up
were ordered to stand back in a deep doorway of the store at
the corner. Two of the men from Mr. Murray's band dis-
mounted, and stood in the street, just in front of the door-
way. " You won't be hurt," Mr. Munn told them, " if you
stay right there till it's over."

One of the men began snuffling. His wife was sick, he said,
and she would be worried; he had to get home to her.

"You're lying," Mr. Munn said. "You just thought of
that. Now get back in there and shut up." He had scarcely
listened to what the man said; he was straining his ears, wait-
ing. There were two more volleys; then, again, the silence.

The arc-lamp over his head hummed. He fixed his eyes
eastward, down Main Street. A cat came out of an alley there,
some thirty-odd feet away, and began to pick its way, fastidi-
ously, across the street. It stopped to nose something in the
gutter, then proceeded. A piece of newspaper slid over the
pavement before the wind. It made a rustling, rasping sound.

The cat was halfway across the street.

The sound, when it came, was at the first split instant more
like an undefined bodily impact, a pressure on the head, than
Hke a sound. The sound filled the air, and would not go
away. It filled the air to bursting. It hung like a great grape,
swollen and clustered in its reverberations. Then it was gone.
The cat was frozen there in the middle of the empty street.
The sound had passed. In the painful, empty silence that
ensued, Mr. Munn heard the tinkling, brittle sound of glass
striking the pavement. A piece of glass that had still clung
to the shattered window of the hotel lobby had been dis-
lodged.

Under the pressure of the bit, his mare ceased her plunging,